Songbird
by F.A.99
Summary: When Queen Rhaella fails to birth a sister-wife for Rhaegar, Aerys, in a fit of rage, betrothes his trueborn son to his bastard daughter. Elise, daughter of a raped woman, bastard of a Mad King, was a woman who ruled her own life, and Gods be damned she would not lose her freedom to this silver-haired ponce. (Rhaegar/OC Targaryen bastard)
1. Prologue

**Hello again! So _Songbird_ won by miles, and as promised, here it is! I am really looking forward to writing this, and don't worry, I will not neglect the Sun :) **

**Please review and favourite! I love hearing what you all think. Also, I do not own any GRRM's work. However Lucien, Elise and Elyn all belong to me.**

 **Faye**

Prologue

Lucian Hardy was a formidable man. Tall and broad, commanding a presence that turned all eyes to him. Grey hair pulled back, frown lines like scars, it did not matter he was only a minor Lord of the Crownlands. His green eyes were wickedly sharp.

"My daughter, Elyn. She was beautiful, it is true- she had many suitors. I denied each one. Do you know why, your grace?"

King Jaehaerys swallowed, but hid his fear as best he could. This was no normal meeting.

"She was my only heir. My wife died years ago and I did not see fit to remarry. Elyn was all I had, all I needed. She was smart, she was beautiful, she was _mine_."

Lucian turned to face the weak king. His disgust was evidenced only by the slight curl of his lip. This man was not worthy of the crown. Thin and short, balding white hair and watery eyes. King indeed.

All he could see was the chestnut hair of his daughter, her laughing smile, eyes glinting like green jewels. The way she pulled him from his work, from his thoughts, sitting on his knee as a child, pulling at his hair. She was so precious, all he had left, and she was gone.

"She killed herself, tied a noose around her throat and swung from the rafters. I was the one who found her body. She was supposed to have written a list of possible hand-maids. It was written, perfectly done, sat upon her table with the ink still wet. My Elyn. Even in death she was all a father could ask for."

"I am sorry for your loss," the King said, eyes large and shining.

"I do not want your pity," Lucion retorted.

Jaehaerys drew himself up, trying to imitate the raw power of his ancestors.

"Then what do you want, my Lord?"

Lucian glared at him with such hate Jaehaerys felt himself wither. If looks could kill.

"Your son raped her. I took him into my hall, gave him food and a bed, and he destroyed her. Put a bastard in her belly for all to see.

"Aerys Targaryen. If he was a different man, I'd have cut off his cock and fed it to the crows. But alas, he has the dragon-blood. So I must settle with something else."

Jaehaerys held his breath, cursing his son's foolishness. Lucian was no real threat, could hardly field a thousand men, and yet, somehow, Jaehaerys knew his son's mistake would cost them dearly.

"Legitimise the girl as a Hardy. She may be a bastard, a bastard of a rapist as well, but she is my grand-daughter and all I have left of Elyn. Her mother could not bear to touch her, but I do not have that freedom. She will inherit or my House will fall."

Wincing, Jaehaerys opened his mouth to protest, make a sweeter deal, offer him a new wife. He could not have a rogue Targaryen, no matter the name, roaming his kingdom.

"Do not think to deny me this. If I remember correctly, she is not the only Targaryen bastard. I understand there are those would pay dearly for her to wed, in time. Do not think you are the only family she has."

 _Curse this man and all his cunning_ , Jaehaerys thought. For centuries the Blackfyres had plagued his family, until even now. He knew better than any other what they would pay for a Targaryen wife, bastard or no. Their claim would grow stronger and he would grow weaker.

"Are you threatening the Iron Throne, my Lord?" he asked softly.

Lucian walked forward until there was hardly an inch between them. He towered over the King.

" _Yes_ ," he hissed. "Oh, you want to kill me? Such a shame. My grand-daughter, wherever she may be, will be left only with my most trusted servants. Travelling across the Narrow Sea all on her lonesome. I weep to miss her wedding."

Jaehaerys scowled, rage stirring within him. This man held all the cards, and there was nothing Jaehaerys could do but obey his commands.

Damn his son and his whoring ways.

* * *

Elise was a beautiful girl, scarily so, and Lucien watched with pride as she grew. There was a part of him that would always resent her for her father, but here, in their halls, she was Elyn reborn.

The girl in question sprinted into the room, hair damp with sea-water and face wet with tears. She barrelled into his side and he knelt to her level.

"What is it girl?"

She sniffled, lavender eyes wide a doe-like.

"I was swimming," she sobbed, hiccupping. "And one of the boys pushed me and said I was a bastard. I hit him and said he was lying but then he said his Mama had told him so it must be true."

He assessed her face stonily, wiped away her tears and shook her shoulders. She stared up at him.

"You _are_ a bastard."

The girl gaped at him in shock, jaw dropping. Her tears had stopped, and he wondered how long it would be before they started again.

"Your father raped your mother. Do you know what that means?"

She shook her head silently.

"That means he bed her when she did not want him to. Then she became pregnant, and had you."

The girl did not understand what that meant, clearly, and her lip quivered. But he was gladdened to see her eyes were dry.

"Was he a bad man?" she asked quietly.

He nodded, face blank. He did not care if this was cruel. This was the truth, and he was a firm believer that children that were lied to made ignorant adults. Whatever grief she felt now would be lessened over time, at least.

"What happened to my Mama?"

"She killed herself."

Elise gasped, eyes filled with confusion.

" _Why?_ "

"Because she did not want you. And she did not want to keep living," he said calmly. "Sometimes, when you are very upset for a very long time, you don't want to be upset anymore. It is wrong, but sometimes we think wrong things when times are hard."

The girls face crumpled, but under his scrutiny she pressed her lips together in a shaky white line and held her breath. Tears welled in her eyes, quivering on her lashes like rain drops, but did not fall. He nodded firmly.

"Many people will say many things about you in your life," he told her. "But if you know the truth, if you know who you are, then none can take that from you. You are Elise, daughter of Aerys Targeryen and daughter of Elyn Hardy. Let no one tell you otherwise."

His counsel was meaningless at the time, but as the years went by, Elise held those words close to her heart, like a bird whose song was a light in the dark.


	2. Fire and Blood

**And so it begins.**

 **Fire and Blood**

Rhaella watched her brother drink. It hurt too much to call him husband. All these years, and still, she gagged to remember what they had together as husband and wife.

Aerys drank cup after cup, swallow after swallow, and slowly a storm grew behind his eyes. His scowl deepened, and the face that had once been so handsome twisted into a monstrosity she could not bear to look at.

"Failure after failure..." he muttered, voice growing louder. "Do you know what the Lords say about me? They _laugh_ , they _laugh at the dragon!_ "

He screeched at her and she winced, frail and weak in the bed. Still she could not rise, a moon after birthing another stillborn. A girl this time- she named her Sienna.

"Aerys, I don't know what you want me to do."

"Be a wife damn it!" he screamed, spittle flying from his lips. "Do your fucking duty! All you have to do, all I ever ask, is give me a fucking daughter!"

Rhaella did not need him to tell her she was a failure for a wife. One son she had given him, a beautiful, smart son, but he needed more.

"Rhaegar does not need to wed his sister," she protested gently. "Father made us do the same and look at us now. There are many Lords who would pay a pretty penny to have their daughters become Queen."

Aerys shook his head so fiercely he spilt his wine.

"NO!" he boomed. "Rhaegar is a dragon, a _Valyrian_ , and he will have no less that one of his own!"

Gods the whole castle had probably heard this farce by now. She felt her patience grow thin. _Duty Rhaella,_ she thought to herself, _Duty_.

Aerys fell silent; sipping his wine like it was water. She watched him with tired, wary eyes.

"Do you know what is worse?" he said, voice deceptively calm. "Is that I already have a daughter."

Rhaella close her eyes, reigning in her own fury. She remembered that day. When Father had stormed into their rooms and screamed at Aerys for the first time in his life. Aerys had raped a Lady, apparently, and now her father was insisting the bastard girl be legitimised as his own. She remembered the shock on her brother's face, shock that his actions actually had consequences.

"Do not speak of her," she said coldly.

She was still grieving their babe and he brought up the healthy, pretty, _living_ daughter another woman had given him? Was he so cruel?

 _If he was sober I might have had a chance,_ she thought bitterly.

Suddenly, Aerys threw the cup at her with all his might and she screamed in shock as it smashed into the wall beside her. Wine stained the sheets red.

"I bedded her _once_ and she gave me a living, _breathing_ daughter where you have given me corpses! _"_ he roared. "They say she is a maiden of beauty unrivalled. You cannot say the same for rotting _Sienna_ can you?"

Rhaella bristled, felt angry tears spilling and in the unfairness of it all, she yelled something she would regret for years to come.

"If I mean so little to you, save me the pain! Wed your girl to Rhaegar and be done with it you cockless _coward_!"

She expected him to beat her, cover her in bruises, spit in her face. What Rhaella did not expect was his scowl to turn into a smile, and his smile turn into a laugh.

* * *

Elise fell with a grunt, before crawling to her feet again, dress covered in dust.

"Why do I have to do it in a dress?" she panted, glaring at her Grand-father. "Why do I have to do this _at all_?"

He stared at her with no pity, staff tucked under his arm.

"Because there are men who care not who you are," he said firmly. "And if you are to be attacked, you will be wearing a dress, will you not?"

Elise only scowled, dusting off her skirt as best she could and raising her dagger once more. Grand-father had suddenly gained an interest in her fighting abilities, which were close to zero. Day after day he beat her black and blue with his staff, giving her only a dagger with which to defend herself.

"Can I not have a sword, or even a staff," she said exasperatedly. "Something a little longer?"

Scoffing, he shook his head at her stupidity.

"Do not be dull on purpose, girl, it does not suit you," he snapped, readying himself for another bout. "How will you hide a sword or staff on your person? The key is to _look_ unprepared."

 _How was he even walking_ , she thought bitterly, _he is far too old_. Lucian Hardy's hair was completely grey, like iron, and his face was creased with age. But his hands were steady, his back strong, and he stood tall and proud.

A thud, and she had barely a second to dodge his swipe, throwing up an arm to catch the next, wincing at the impact. She ducked and weaved as best she could, heart thudding, and finally caught the staff in her hand. And without thinking, Elise yanked so he stumbled, whirling to hold the knife at his throat. They stood still, breathing heavily, and she realised with a start she had won.

"I won," she whispered, stepping back. "Mother of Mercy, I _won!_ "

She laughed in shock, before screeching as she was knocked to the ground. Grand-father stood over her with a smirk.

"You have not won until the enemy is dead."

"So you want me to kill you," she scoffed, knocking aside his staff. "I love you too Grand-father."

He laughed, which of course made Elise laugh, because Lucian Hardy was a cold man and for him to do anything but scowl was a success indeed.

A proffered hand and she accepted it, hauling herself to her feet. Her hair was frazzled, chunks loose from her hasty braid. It had not been her fault- the stupid man had been waking her up in the most stupid of ways to test her reactions. Today he had dumped a bucket of water on her.

" _No assassin is going to_ _drown me in my sleep, you buffoon!_ " she'd screamed.

"Go and get ready," he said to her now, brushing a hair from her face. "Come meet me in my solar when you are done."

Elise nodded cautiously and made her way to her rooms, wondering what she had done wrong this time.

Her room was simple, as they were not a rich house, with a comfortable bed and oak furniture. But she adored the view from her window, overlooking the sea, and had spent days as a child imagining she was a bird or even a mermaid.

Someone had drawn a bath for her, and she gladly sank into it, rinsing the grime and sweat from her body, washing her hair with rose-water. At last she rose, and the water rolled off her slender, womanly body, hair plastered to her back and past her hips. Elise had yet to meet anyone with hair as long as hers, but she took an odd pride in it. It was different, so white, but it was her. Know yourself, Grand-father had once said.

Did it matter whose hair she had inherited, she thought, as she braided into a simple bun. Yes, very much so. Not many could say their father was King. But then, not many could say their mother was raped.

Her dress was simple and clean, dark green, white underskirt peeking through. At last she entered her Grand-father's solar, hands clenching and unclenching in apprehension.

He sat solemnly at his table, letter open before him. Instructions were not given, so she tentatively sat in the seat opposite him, waiting for him to speak. When he did not, she took matters into her own hands.

"Is this about your sudden obsession with my well-being? I honestly don't think I'm going to be assassinated."

He did not respond and passed her the letter, green eyes scanning her face intently. Whatever he sought, Elise would not give, and kept her face carefully blank as she read.

 _Lucian Hardy, Lord of Thorpe_

 _You are here by commanded to escort your grand-daughter, the Elise Hardy, to Kings Landing to become the betrothed of the Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. The wedding will take place a year hence, and in that time she will attend court and learn what it is to be Queen. It is the King's desire his son have a Valyrian bride of his own descent. You are expected by the moon's turn._

 _His Grace Aerys the First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm._

"Oh," Elise said softly.

Her stomach writhed like a pit of snakes. She did not want to wed, had never planned to wed. Men other than her Grand-father, she simply did not trust. And here, here she was ordered by her _father_ to wed her _brother_. They wanted her to be _Queen_.

A _bastard_.

"This must be a jape," she muttered, shaking her head. "There is no way in hell the Lords of Westeros would stand by as a bastard became Queen."

"They must."

Lucian ran a hand down his face, and Elise felt her heart sink to her feet. He was supposed to provide a solution. He _always_ had a solution.

"No," she said, panicking. "I cannot marry the Prince!"

"Mayhaps," he whispered at last, and she searched his face. "But the King is the King and to disobey him is treason."

"I _can't,_ Papa," she whispered, eyes huge. "You _know_ I can't."

His face melted as she called him that, a name she had last uttered at ten years. Desperation, fury, sadness, and hope warred with each other in his eyes. At last, his face melted into stone and he rose. She watched him, heart thudding in desperation.

Lucian knelt in front of her and took her hands in his. How she reminded him of Elyn. One daughter had been defiled by a Targaryen, he would not let history repeat itself.

"I have raised you," he said quietly but strongly, gaze unwavering. "I have watched you grow, helped you find yourself, _know yourself_. You are bold, you are brave, you are smart, and I know you have but one fear. Men. Time may heal a wound, but a severed arm does not grow back, and so I tell you that I will do anything for you."

Elise held her breath, and for reasons unknown, felt her eyes well with tears. It had been so long since he had last spoken to her like that, with such feeling.

"Once upon a time, I turned away from the lecherous eyes of a Prince, thinking only of duty, and I pay the price for it every day. Now I know what I did not know- duty to _you_ comes before all else, before this House, before Kings and Princes. If you do not want this, _I will not let it happen."_

His voice was so fierce, so passionate; she could do nothing but stare.

"Oh Papa..." she sighed at last, and all the fear, all the sadness, rushed out of her like poison from a wound.

His attempt to help her, save her, had instead thrown into light the fragility of the life they knew. And as the shock subsided, she realised it was foolish to be shocked. How had she not seen this possibility? The Queen had no daughters and the King had one. Was it not logical, in a twisted, maddened way, that she be made use of? But the very thought of marrying her brother sent bile to her throat.

Elise turned his hands over in hers- they were large and calloused, and she squeezed them, resigned. There was nothing more important to Lucian Hardy than his family, and she was all that was left. And that was why she could not let him undo all his work, turn all his patience to ruin. She was the last hope of a dying house, and to disobey the King was to seal House Hardy's fate. This land, this town, the sea teasing the sands and the sands joining the grass, and knew she could not let it fall to fire and blood.

She put a young hand on his leathered cheek.

"I am afraid," she whispered. "So very afraid. But you told me know yourself, and I know that I am Elise, daughter of Aerys and daughter of Elyn, and if I must choose between exile and ruin and wedding a brother, then I think we both know what I must do. Duty, Papa- you need not bear this burden alone."

She straightened, and in her eyes burned a resolve that fired the furnace of Lucian's own heart. That she was so selfless, that she was so just. The Prince would never see this side of her, he realised; they were destined to a doomed marriage, one of resentment and hate.

That she would go to the other side, cross a sea he could not sail, travel a path he could not follow. And he would be here, alone, haunted by the past while she was tormented by the future.

"I cannot lose you," he murmured, vulnerable for a moment.

"You will not Papa," she said strongly, and a dry smile crept over red lips. "They will have their bride, their Valyrian brood mare, their Bastard Queen, but they will pay for it in _fire_ and _blood_."


	3. The Maiden

**A longer chapter for you :) Please review! It really makes my day.**

 **Faye**

 **The Maiden**

"What is it Mother?"

Rhaella just shook her head, face pale from childbirth and all that had followed. She waved away her son's helping arm, and sat carefully on the stone bench.

"There is something I must tell you."

Rhaegar watched her with sad eyes, and she ran her fingers across his brow. A shadow of doom hung over him like a cloud, like a curse, and she remembered the burning of Summerhall and his birth among the smoking ruins.

She took his hands in hers and looked up at his face, haloed by the sun behind him- how beautiful he was, so haunting, a fairness that came neither from her nor Aerys. As if the Gods had carved his face from marble, crowned it in silver and hewn amethysts as his eyes. Yes, that was Rhaegar- private, silent, whose beauty and melancholy spoke more than his lips.

"You know I have given you no brothers," she murmured as he sat beside her. "No sisters."

"It matters not Mother," he said, and she knew his love would pay for her husband's hate tenfold. "I have you, and Arthur, and that is enough."

Rhaella turned to face him fully, and her face was drawn with uncertainty and grievance. Her hair, long and silver, was drawn back, and somehow she looked years older.

"But your Father did," she finished at last, and though her voice wavered she was strong. "A sister. Do you know of her?"

Rhaegar did, everyone had, the rumours were difficult to ignore. But to hear it confirmed by his own mother was another thing entirely. To truly know he was not alone with the burden of a dynasty.

 _Ah,_ he thought grimly, _but he was- she is but a maiden and I am the Crown Prince_.

"Aye," he said quietly. "I have."

Rhaella took a breath and straightened, and he watched tiredly as she turned from mother to Queen before his eyes.

"Her name is Elise Hardy," she said calmly. "There is no doubt she is your sister. They say she is a maiden of peerless beauty, with the eyes and hair of our bloodline."

This meant nothing to him- either way she was his sister. A bastard, mayhap, but the Gods had never been fair. Her beauty meant little.

"What of it?"

"Your father," she began, clenching his hands tightly. "Has decided that in absence of any other maiden of our line, she will be your wife, and, in time, Queen."

Rhaegar stared at her- it seemed even in his madness Aerys surprised him still.

"She is a bastard," he stated.

"She was," Rhaella corrected. "But your grandfather legitimised her as payment for your father's rape of the Lady Elyn Hardy."

Daughter of rape. Was it not suitable that he, who had been born in the ashes of tragedy, would wed a maiden born of such evil?

But nay, it could never happen. She was his sister, for one, and he had hoped to end that ugly tradition, and the Lords of Westeros would never bow to a bastard, legitimised or no.

"It cannot happen," he said quietly. "The nobility will never serve a bastard, no matter her name."

Here Rhaella placed a hand on his cheek, and he saw in her eyes the remnants of a war she had lost, and knew the outcome.

"They will," she said firmly. "She is no simple bastard. She is the daughter of a King, a Targaryen in all but name. And now she is coming of age, it is important her fate is decided- there are others she may turn to. Remember the Blackfyres."

"The Blackfyres are long gone."

"We thought the Blackfyres gone after the Second Rebellion, and the Third, and the Fourth, and now the Fifth. There will always be Blackfyres so long as there are Targaryens."

Rhaegar was silent, and stared out at the sea, glistening like molten silver beneath the summer sun.

"So I must marry my half-sister," he said. "For better or for worse."

"Yes," she said, sighing. "Let us pray she did not take after her father."

* * *

Elise rode her horse through the streets of Thorpe for the last time. The people cried out to her, threw flowers at her feet, and she smiled and waved.

Was it sad that these people knew her better than her betrothed ever would? They had seen her grow, watched as she played among their children like one of their own, listened to her sing, swam beside her in the sea. They loved her, knew her, and by the Gods she did not wish to trade them for the strangers of Kings Landing.

Songbird they called her, for her voice. It always made her smile to hear it. Nonsense she called it, but they only laughed and said it all the more. And when the children heard, there was no going back- they followed her down the street singing it like a psalm.

A little girl ran before her horse and Elise reared her stallion just in time. The girl's father, the Blacksmith, she realised, ran forward and scooped the tiny girl from the road.

"Is she alright, ser?" she called, and the man, despite his size and strength, flushed red.

"Yes milady," he said. "Just a bit dim is all."

The tiny girl, head filled with red curls, wild and untamed, wriggled in her father's arms and extended her pudgy hands to Elise, open wide like star fish.

"Songbird!"

The man tried to hush his daughter, but the girl's face was screwed in an expression of utter determination only children can master. Elise laughed and beckoned the man and his daughter forward.

"What is it you want, sweetling?" she said fondly, touching her freckled cheek.

The girl stared up at her in awe, and pointed at her silver hair.

There was nothing more striking about Elise than her hair, matched only by perhaps her eyes. It was silver, shining almost blindingly in the sun, like silk, and hung so long and smooth it draped over her the back of her horse like a cloak.

"I'm afraid I cannot give you it all," Elise smiled. "How about this instead?"

She plucked two hairs from her head and twisted them into a coil of delicate silver, handing it to the beaming girl, who took it from her hand like it was treasure.

"Thank you milady," the blacksmith grinned. "You will be missed."

It was Elise's turn to blush, and as she continued her journey, she wished she was a simple maiden who could marry a man like that blacksmith, have plenty of children whose tiny feet pattered over the floor and whose hair might be as red as his or as white as hers.

But it was only a dream, a dream she knew she did not truly want. If only there was a way to have children without a husband. Then perhaps, her life might be complete.

* * *

They stared, wide-eyed. Rhaegar watched them, face blank. Arthur Dayne, his closest companion, stood beside him.

They could not see his sister from here, but the small folk could, so he, his mother, and Arthur watched them instead. They were quiet, with awe Rhaegar realised, and soon enough, to his surprise, they began to cheer.

That shouldn't really surprise him- if she was as pretty as people said, then that was all the small folk needed. A beautiful princess who looked so similar to their prince? Perfection.

"Do not be so sullen Rhaegar," Arthur laughed. "Bastard she may be, but she is your sister, and beautiful to boot."

"I would rather she stayed my sister," he replied, but rearranged his face into something more pleasant. "And we know nothing of her character."

"She isn't Cersei Lannister- I think you'll be fine."

Rhaegar had to admit, in that, he was lucky. The thought of having that beautiful, golden-haired monster as his wife sent shivers down his spine. And even with Elise being a bastard, in truth, she was not, and above all else, she was his sister, daughter of the King. The nobles might smart a little, but then they would realise that as long as there was a maiden of the Targaryen line, their daughters never truly stood a chance.

Knights in red turned a corner, led by a man in white, and he realised the men that had been sent to escort his betrothed had arrived- which meant the woman in question was close behind. He stared intently at the face of Oswell Whent, the Kingsguard assigned to escort his betrothed, and as he came closer, Rhaegar realised the man was grinning, white teeth flashing as bright as his white cloak.

And as the Lady Elise rounded the corner, he realised why. All thoughts of her being his sister flew from his mind as he stared at. Astride a white stallion, skin like ivory, eyes wide and pale, striking even from here, and Gods, her hair, like molten silver long as a cloak. She wore a lavender dress, loose and thin, cinching her tiny waist and highlighting the rise and fall of her chest, and her smile was stunning. She waved at the people and Rhaegar realised she had weaved flowers into her hair.

"Gods," Arthur breathed. "You lucky bastard Rhaegar."

Rhaegar glanced at his mother and took note of the tight expression on her face, and he took her hand.

"She likely hates Father as much as you," he whispered. "He raped her mother. And now he is forcing her to marry her brother."

"It is every girl's dream to marry the Prince."

"Was it yours?"

Her face eased a little, and she nodded.

"No, I suppose it wasn't."

Rhaegar squeezed her hand before stepping forward. Looks meant nothing- he only hoped Lady Elise was as kind and compassionate as she was beautiful.

Rhaegar watched as Ser Oswell helped his betrothed from her horse, saw the apprehension as she took his hand, quickly masked by a smile. She stood tall and elegant beside the knight, and her beauty, unlike Cersei Lannister's, seemed to extenuate those around her. Ser Oswell's hair and armour had never shined brighter.

He was about to address Lady Elise, when a huge black stallion stopped beside hers, and from it, dismounted a man with such presence he was astonished he missed it. A man, tall and strong, with a formidable expression and grey hair pulled back, dressed in dark green robes, a double-ended spear strapped to his back. The stare he gave ser Oswell was full of ice, and he turned to the woman with a face that was surprisingly soft, and took her hand.

Lord Lucian Hardy, Rhaegar realised with a start. If Lady Elise did not hate the Royal family, then her grand-father certainly did. But Rhaegar knew it was well deserved, and resolved to show he was not his father.

"My Lord, my Lady," he said softly as they neared. "Welcome to Kings Landing."

Lady Elise watched him with wary eyes, and she let him kiss her hand under the hawk eyes of Lord Hardy.

"My Prince," she said respectfully, and curtseyed.

"You are the spitting image of your Father," Hardy said sharply. "Let us hope it was only his looks you inherited."

Rhaegar was unsurprised- his mother had warned him of the man. Only a man of formidable strength could force a King to legitimise his bastard grand-daughter.

"Careful, ser," Arthur warned from beside him.

"If only you had watched your King as well as you do his son," Hardy said icily. "Then perhaps my daughter would be alive."

Rhaegar had heard that story too- how the beautiful maiden had hung herself from the rafters amid the cries of her newborn babe. He watched the Lady Elise's face for any sign of discomfort, but found only fierce dignity in her lavender eyes.

"Nonetheless," Rhaegar said. "I am not my Father."

"For your own well-being, let us hope so," Lord Lucian said calmly, and his green eyes flashed dangerously. "A corpse would make a poor husband indeed."

His two guards bristled but Rhaegar held up his hand, noticing that Lady Elise's face was like stone.

"If you are finished, my Lord," he said. "Then you will be shown to your rooms."

The two Hardy's followed him up the stairs to his mother, who waited with a blank face.

"Your Grace," intoned lord Hardy, with far more respect than he had awarded Rhaegar. "You are well?"

"Well enough, my Lord," she said calmly, bowing her head regally. "And this is your grand-daughter."

Her eyes were cold but not hostile as she took in the woman in question. Lady Elise curtseyed to the woman that might have been her mother.

"An Honour, your Grace."

"You are very beautiful," Rhaella said, and her voice was curiously soft.

The Lady Elise smiled a small smile, and met the Queen's eyes fully.

"Perhaps I inherited it from my Aunt."

The company blinked. It seemed in all the injustice of Rhaella being shunned for Aerys' other daughter, they had forgotten that although Rhaella was not her mother, she was certainly her Aunt.

"From your Mother too, I hope," Queen Rhaella said lightly, and her eyes were alight with the realisation that Elise was her niece if not her daughter.

The Lady and Lord followed Rhaegar and Rhaella into the Keep, through the corridors that circumvented the Great Hall, and onto a drawbridge into Maegor's Holdfast. They stopped in front of the two Kingsguard that blocked the way. Ser Gwayne Gaunt and ser Barristan the Bold.

"My Lady," began Rhaegar. "This is ser Gwayne and ser Barristan of the Kinsguard. Ser Barristan will be your personal guard, as my betrothed, then as my wife, and eventually as my Queen, if it so pleases you."

Ser Barristan stepped forward, hair and beard blonde streaked with white, and something in his face made Lady Elise smile.

"It is an honour ser," she said gently, and he kissed her hand.

Ser Oswell and ser Barristan swapped places, and they entered Maegor's Holdfast. Rhaella spoke as they walked.

"You will stay in the Royal Apartments, considering you are Rhaegar's betrothed. You will live here for the next year, until you are wed, at which point you will move into new chambers."

 _My chambers_ , Rhaegar thought. Was it so bad he kept forgetting she was his sister? They looked so similar, scarily so, almost as though they were twins. And though the thought was sickening, he could not help but be hypnotised by the graceful sway of her hips and long hair flashing silver in the sun.

"And you my Lord," Rhaella said to Hardy. "As the grand-father of Lady Elise, will reside here also."

With loyal guards at his door in case he attempted to murder the King.

"It is an honour, your Grace," said Lucian Hardy.

They reached Lord Hardy's room, at which point Rhaella bid them farewell and left for her own, and so it was that ser Barristan, ser Arthur, Prince Rhaegar and Lady Elise made their way to the furthest point of Maegor's Holdfast. At last the reached the end of the corridor, and light flooded through the window, bathing the Redstone in warmth. Rhaegar opened the door with a soft smile.

"I thought you might enjoy rooms with a sea view."

Lady Elise wandered into the room, and he saw the wonder in her eyes just as it was hidden.

The rooms were huge and airy, the entirety of the furthest wall a balcony, hidden by a thin curtain fluttering in the wind. When Winter came, shutters would be put in, but whilst Summer lasted, the gentle sea breeze and smell of salt filled the room.

"It's beautiful," Lady Elise smiled. "Thank you, your Grace."

He bowed his head.

"I will see you on the morrow. The rest of this day is yours to do with as you please."

Rhaegar left the room, along with ser Arthur, and Elise breathed easier. She scanned the room, lightly but expensively furnished, and the hidden balcony teased her. Forgetting ser Barristan, she lifted her skirts and ran to it, pushing away the curtain.

The breath was knocked out of her. The view was extraordinary. The sea on one side, crystal blue, and she wondered if she stared hard enough she might sea fish. On the other side was Kings Landing, and she could see the Great Sept of Baelor, rising like a mountain from hills. From here she could see the beach, where the Blackwater spilled into the ocean, and watched countless dots run in and out of the sea. How she longed to be with them.

"My Lady?"

Elise gasped and whirled around to see ser Barristan the Bold.

"Ser Barristan," she sighed. "I didn't see you."

"My job is not to be seen, so thank you," he said.

"You are my shadow now," she said lightly. "Whoever heard of a white shadow?"

Barristan smiled, and she assessed him, before turning back around to stare out at the sea. Would her guard her door at night? Who was going to guard her from him?

Kingsguard perhaps, but she knew well that vows meant little. He could do whatever he pleased with her as she slept, if he so wished it. The thought made her shiver.

"I wonder," she said suddenly. "If I might visit the beach."

Barristan watched with a slightly stunned expression and the woman ran to her room, shut the door firmly, and seemed to run back out just as fast. Where her hair had been long and thick, it was bound in a braided bun, and where her dress had been lavender and flowing, she now wore a thin linen under dress. He blushed and averted his eyes from her slim white shoulders.

Elise took no notice and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, running across the room bare-foot. He made to follow, and she stopped him, frowning.

"You cannot truly mean to guard me in that?" she said incredulously, gesturing to his plate armour. "If I drown and you jump in to save me, you'll sink twice as fast!"

He gaped for a moment.

"I did not think you would swim, my Lady."

"Of course I'm going to swim!" she exclaimed. "What else does one do at a beach?"

Before he could answer, she swung open the door and practically skipped down the hall.

"I suppose I'm going to have to swim very carefully!"

Ser Barristan the Bold hurried to follow, wondering just what this lively maiden had in store for the Seven Kingdoms.


	4. The Prince

**Thank you to everyone for your support! Please review, the longer the better :)**

 **A special thanks to Ana for her lovely reviews! Unfortunately, as you are a guest, I cannot reply directly. However I will say that yes, Lucian is an incredible father figure, and also yes Elise is doing well so far and trying to make the best of a crappy situation. Rhaegar is a bit of a downer, but I'm hoping the two of them will balance each other out :) Thank you for reviewing!**

 **Faye**

 **The Prince**

Elise swirled her finger through the sand, and it parted in its path and fell back in place just as fast. That was funny. Perhaps Rhaegar Targaryen was the finger and she the sand- he thinks he has her, but when he turns his back, the masks slip away.

She began to laugh, soft and tinkling at first, overcome with the image of herself dressed as a grain of sand to a masquerade ball. And the bards begin to sing and the lutes fill the halls with music, and she steps out of the potato-like costume completely naked, her true self. Stuffing a fist in her mouth to stifle her giggles, Elise eyed the Kingsguard ser Barristan. What would he dress as?

A stalk of wheat perhaps, as the sigil of House Selmy. Tall and graceful he would be, swaying in the non-existent breeze of the hall, wheat helm brushing the rafters. Perhaps the birds would flock to his head and he would fend them off with a stick of corn.

Her laughter could not be hidden, and her shoulders shook with the force of them. Elise might have been pretty, and she might have been graceful, but by the Gods her true laugh was something to remember. Loud and braying, interspersed with the occasional snort, and if she was truly hysterical, no sound would escape her lips and she would shake in silent mirth.

It was the laugh that made others around her laugh at the sheer sound of it, and ser Barristan was finding it difficult to maintain his seriousness. Here, at least, there was nobody to witness it. A hidden alcove, sheltered beneath the White Sword Tower, and the sand was white and the sea a clear blue. This land was the King's, and by extension, the Royal family's. And Elise, despite her name, was nothing if not royal.

In truth, she did not look it. Her hair was damp and frazzled from the sea, her bun somehow still intact. She kneeled on the beach, drawing in the sand, face filled with childish delight. So different from the composed Lady of not two hours ago. Barristan felt honoured to witness it. He knew, looking at her now, there was no better woman for Prince Rhaegar- she was beautiful, filled with joy and quick to laugh, where he was reserved and quiet. They would be a King and Queen for the ages.

Elise rose suddenly, and smiled to see what she had drawn. A long stalk of wheat, and beside it, a circle that she maintained was a grain of sand.

"Look ser," she said, beckoning him over. "You are the wheat, as a Selmy, and I am the grain of sand because I love the sea and sand so dearly."

Honestly, Elise did not know why she was placing such trust in him. It had been so difficult to be near any man for so long, but something about him reminded her of her grand-father on his best days. Somehow, she knew his response to this simple drawing would tell her the sort of person he was.

Barristan stared at the drawing, gaping. The circle, admittedly with sticks for limbs, two dots for eyes, and a curve for a smile, was of the most pitiful artistic ability he was sure a blind child could have drawn better with his toe. And the stalk of wheat...

But the thought of himself as wheat and her as a great big lump made his throat constrict, his eyes water, his lips press together.

For one wild moment, Elise thought the knight might burst into tears, and began to curse her insensitive depiction of him as grain, but suddenly, without warning, ser Barristan exploded in peals of uncontrollable laughter.

At first Elise only stared, but when the knight almost fell over from the force of his mirth and the alcove rang with his howling, she could not help but laugh herself. Her eyes sparkled and he found himself so suddenly taken by her beauty, he thought he might just faint.

When their laughter died to chortles, she looped her arm with his, and was confident he was a man she could trust. He had passed the unintentional test.

"Come ser Barristan, let us walk back," she teased. "Then perhaps we can find me some inks and I can preserve such art forever in paint and parchment. It shall hang beside the portraits of kings and Queens, beside Aegon, beside Baelor, and people from every corner of the world will smile to see the Lady and her Knight."

Barristan smiled with his teeth and she glowed with such rapture he thought he might go blind.

* * *

Elise combed her hair before her unfamiliar mirror with an unfamiliar comb, but her hair was as heavy and white as it had always been, sliding like satin through her fingers. She began to braid it herself, intricately- never had she let anyone touch her hair- until it was wrapped around her head in coils, and she felt her neck might break beneath the weight. But it did not, and she left it bare of adornments, sapphire pins lying unclaimed in the box they had arrived in.

She sighed, and was glad to know she had this evening before Elise was presented before court and the King. Although she was the Prince's sister and betrothed, she knew there would be many a jealous and spiteful eye upon her. Perhaps her father's would be among them.

As she rose, Elise smoothed down the skirt of her dress, pale blue and embroidered with tiny flowers, and checked for her knife. She might have ser Barristan, but it did not hurt to be prepared. There it was, sheathed at her thigh- Elise could reach it through a subtle pocket she had installed in all her dresses. Preparation preparation preparation; that was grand-father's motto. As well as countless other wise old man sayings.

"To the library ser?"

The knight turned from watching the sea and gave her a soft smile. He had composed himself from his undignified laughter, but he was different to how he had been- his eyes shone with mirth at a joke only he knew, his lips curled into a smile at nothing. She preferred it like that.

The walk was short in truth, but it seemed long, and the eyes of the servants followed her like hawks. Her arm tightened around ser Barristan's and she took comfort in the cold metal of his armour.

Stairs and she climbed them patiently; knowing the second largest library in Westeros awaited her. The doors, huge and oak, and etched into them were dragons and fire spilling from their gaping maws like lit oil. Elise shuddered.

The knight knocked and the doors swung open with practiced ease- it seemed the library was regularly visited- and she took a step inside, slipping her arm from Barristan's.

The room, a hall, a cavern, a country, and her mouth watered to see the size. The ceiling was hidden far above her, shadowed but darkness, and the walls were far from her eyes. But the crowning glory, the shining jewel, were the hundred of countless, towering shelves like a maze. The went from floor to ceiling, and half way was a tiny walkway reached by a ladder, and she foresaw hours and hours would be spent here.

Dazed, she wandered, and it seemed as if she were alone in the world. Barristan was guarding at the door to give her some privacy, and she couldn't thank him enough for his tact. Peace, quiet, just her and her thoughts.

Perhaps she could finally sort through the confusing amalgam of her thoughts on her brother. Her betrothed. What a sickening combination.

She rounded a corner and spied a plush, cushioned window seat over-looking the courtyard, and, books beneath her arms, sped towards it. But too late she saw it was occupied.

"My Lady?"

Rhaegar Targaryen seemed surprised, but all Elise could think of, all she could think of every time she saw him, was how _similar_ they looked- the same hair colour, the same pale ivory skin, the same chiselled face, the same angled brows. But where her eyes were pale, lavender, his were so dark an indigo they seemed black.

She curtseyed far too late, caught off guard, and she almost dropped her books.

"My Prince," she murmured. "I did not see you."

Perhaps it wasn't that he looked like her that was the problem- it was that he looked like someone else she once knew.

"If you would call me Rhaegar," he said softly, almost shyly. "We are betrothed after all."

Someone she dearly wanted to forget.

"It would be most inappropriate," Elise protested, and she yearned to never know his name and forever think of him as a faceless demon, not this handsome man with such soft eyes.

"I am also your brother," he insisted, though he grimaced for a moment at the reminder of their incest. "It would not do to treat family so coldly, would it now, my lady?"

Elise froze, and closed her eyes for a moment. She had agreed to this betrothal knowing full well what that would mean. If she couldn't say his name, how did she expect to wed him? For better or for worse.

"Rhaegar," she said at last, and she smiled a tired smile. "But you must call me Elise."

He nodded- was that a blush?- and gestured to the books in her arms.

"You are an avid reader?"

She detected a flash of excitement in his eyes before it was gone; it was so strange to see any passion, any life, in such sad eyes.

"I am," she replied, and her eyes sparkled. "My favourites are tales of the Age of Heroes. Like Symeon Star-Eyes, or Brandon the Builder!"

He blinked at her confession, and slowly, to her surprise, a grin grew on his face and the breath was knocked from her. Rhaegar was beautiful solemn, but he was downright _godly_ smiling.

"They are worthy tales indeed," he agreed, smirking slightly. "But there is far better."

Elise bristled with mock anger, and he took a step closer. She didn't move away.

"And what may that be?"

Rhaegar leaned down, and she could see the faintest freckles on his nose and the shadow of a dimple in his cheek.

"Horror!" he yelled.

Elise jumped at his shout and dropped one of the books in her arms. He caught it, laughing, and she scowled at him. It seemed the Dragon Prince was not nearly so meek as he seemed.

"Fool of a dragon," she snarled. "Do that again and I'll show you horror!"

But his laughter was contagious, and soon she joined in, and they found themselves stifling their snickers in the quiet library. When her giggles died down, she realised he was staring at her with burning intensity, and she suddenly felt uncomfortable. Like bugs were crawling beneath her skin, an itch she couldn't scratch.

Rhaegar blinked and his ears went pink- that made her feel a little better- and he beckoned her to the window seat where his own book lay.

She went to read the cover but he tucked it away with haste and she felt her curiosity grow at his suddenly stiff expression. Nonetheless, Elise sat down and rested the book in her lap, conscious of how close he was as he sat down beside her.

"What is it you are reading?"

Elise looked down at the thick tome; in all honesty, she'd just picked it up. Brushing her fingers across the title, she read aloud the words.

"The Tales of Durran Godsgrief," she recited, and he nodded, eyes gleaming.

"I have read that one," he said, and though his voice was quiet, she sensed his passion. "There is another I think you will enjoy, about Lann the Clever."

Rhaegar rose suddenly, and she watched his back as he retreated into the shelves on his hunt. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad wedding him- if only he didn't remind her so much of another.

Elise shook her head and her eyes caught the tome Rhaegar had shoved beneath random scrolls on the table. Checking she was alone, she slowly reach across and lifted the parchment to read the title of the book he sought to hide.

 _The Prince who was Promised._

Elise had never heard of such a title in her life- so why did her stomach drop so?


	5. Lady

**Another chapter. It's a bit short, but the next will be longer! :) Please review, with as much detail as you want! I love reading them ;)**

 **Also, Angela has arrived! I imagine her looking like Holliday Grainger as Lucrezia Borgia.**

 **Faye**

 **Lady**

The whispers died as the Lady Elise slowly walked into the Hall, gripping her grand-father's arm. They stared and stared and she swallowed her fears and stood tall.

Her hair was unadorned, loose, unbound, hanging thick and shining far past her hips, like a silver cloak. A crown in itself, it needed no ornament, and in a silken grey dress that bared the soft white of her neck and shoulders, she seemed like a goddess among men. Almost ethereal, and suddenly ser Barristan realised why the court was silent. How could they call this beauty a bastard? She was more Targaryen than the _King_.

Their eyes were heavy on her skin. Elise knew she was beautiful- it was not arrogance but rather mere observation. And, although a thousand people had stared a little too long before, it was different now. The heat of their judgement burrowed beneath her skin and burned away her walls. Ser Barristan moved away- her rear was undefended- and Lucian pulled back to stand at to the side. His hand shook in hers before they were replaced by nothing, and the pain in his eyes was a shard to her heart. Elise faltered, unsure, detached from the world.

Until a soft hand touch her back and guided her to his side, taking her hand in his. He stood beside her, her brother, her betrothed, and Elise glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Rhaegar stood a little too far forward, as if protecting her, and she could not see past his back to what he watched so warily. He was so much taller, and yet, she could see the ferocity in his eyes- so strange, that one so calm could hold such rage. But she was no damsel to be protected, so she followed his gaze and stared at the thing that had caused Lucian Hardy and Rhaegar Targaryen such pain.

Her Father clearly once been handsome, but now... He looked, in a twisted sort of way, as if the Gods had taken Rhaegar and melted him until into a grotesque portrait of sin that had oozed onto the surface. Where his mouth had been laughing and kind it was filled with hate and scorn; where his eyes had been lively and fierce they were bitter and paranoid; where his hair had once been smooth and silver it was dull and grey. The handsome man who once had every maiden in the Seven kingdoms wrapped around his finger was long dead- here stood his ghost, the manifestation of all the evil and loathing Elyn Hardy had died for. Duality of man; when one side died and the other rotted, were you truly alive?

This man, this man she had imagined in a thousand different forms- as the monster, as the repentant father, as the spoilt brat- was no more than a shadow of a legacy greater than he, and suddenly Elise felt the mad desire to laugh. Her nails dug into Rhaegar's arms but she reigned in the hysteria and settled with staring intently at the man who killed her mother. King, of the Seven Kingdoms, of Westeros, of the grave that hid a mother and daughter well-grieved and never forgotten.

"Your Grace," she said confidently, curtseying.

King Aerys rose from the iron monstrosity and for a wild moment she bitterly wished he would cut himself and bleed to death over the throne so many had died for.

"Daughter," he cried, and to everybody's surprise, he smiled.

Elise was frozen in shock as he descended the steps, and Mother have mercy on her soul, kissed her forehead. The whispers returned like the roar of the ocean flowing back to the shore. His lips were cold and chapped and she shuddered- was this how her mother had felt? Bile rose in her throat.

"Behold!" Aerys crowed, jeering at the Lords and Ladies with sick pride. "The Silver Beauty!"

Behold they did, and their words went from whispers to calls, and she felt like a cow for sale. With a start, she realised it was not just her they blathered over, but the man beside her.

Rhaegar stiffened beside her and Elise, in a moment of solidarity as they watched the beast that was their father, squeezed his hand in hers.

They looked at their Silver Prince and his Silver Bride and saw a future that had been shrouded in madness and decay.

Larys breathed deep as they left the Great Hall, and revelled in air that was free of mad fathers and jealous nobles. Rhaegar held her close to his side, and she realised he needed it as much as she. If anything, he was still her brother.

They began to walk quickly, together, and she heard the clank of ser Arthur and ser Barristan's armour behind them. Her grand-father had excused himself an hour into court, as noble after noble presented their troubles, feigning fatigue, but she saw the toll of meeting the man who murdered his daughter and would never face justice in his tormented green eyes. It was times like this, when Elise, daughter of a raped woman and rapist father, remembered she had it easier than him.

Thinking of her Grand-father only reminded her of the man that was so similar- Tywin Lannister. He had looked like king should, shrouding in scarlet and gold, hair streaked with grey and thick at his shoulders. Age had not dimmed his eyes and she saw the intelligence and power in those green windows from a mile away.

"My Lady!"

They stopped suddenly and Elise turned to see a noblewoman, around Elise's age, walking as fast as she could with as much dignity as she could muster, and stopped before them. She was pretty, in a soft, round sort of way, and her hair was blonde and curled and her eyes a pale blue. Clearly a Lady, Elise tried to remember whether they had met before.

"My Prince," the woman said, curtseying to Rhaegar before turning back to Elise. "I am Angela Rosby, my Lady. I have been chosen as your Lady-in-waiting by Queen Rhaella."

Elise blinked and glance at Rhaegar in confusion, who only shrugged. Turning back to the hesitant woman, Elise smiled as best she could.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Angela," she said softly. "Perhaps you can walk with me to my rooms?"

She gave Rhaegar's arm a squeeze, turning away before he could protest, and took the Lady Angela's hand in her own.

"I find myself surrounded by men at every waking moment," she laughed quietly. "It will be good to have a woman I can talk too."

Angela smiled, and her eyes twinkled with a mirth Elise decided she rather liked.

"Careful the Sword of the Morning does not hear you, my Lady," she whispered. "I hear Dornishmen are easily insulted."

They simultaneously turned to glance at the knight in question, and Arthur Dayne grinned and winked. Elise giggled at Angela's blush.

"They are also notorious womanizers," Elise teased. "Careful he does not charm you into a blushing mess."

"I am a blushing mess regardless," Angela sighed dramatically. "It runs in my family."

Sure enough, the woman was flushed from her cheeks to her chest where she had been like porcelain. Elise shook her head and smiled.

"Blame it on the heat," she said. "No one need ever know your true self, Angela Blushby."

The woman gaped for a moment before bursting into laughter she stifled into snorts, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Lady Blushby indeed!" she snickered. "Oh my Father would just about die of shame if he heard that!"

"Well he best not," Elise grinned. "Rat me out, my Lady, and your father will be the least of your concerns."

She was only joking, but the responding smile Angela gave was filled with resolve and honesty, and Elise realised she had just gained a fast friend.

"I would never betray you, my Lady."

* * *

Cersei picked at a hangnail, hands hidden in her skirts. Gods forbid her father see her doing it. A Lady of Lannister did not pick at her nails.

He stared at her from across the table with cold eyes, and although she he loved her, she wished there was a little more life in him. There had been, once, before mother died and it all went to shit. Damn that ugly little dwarf.

"Elise Hardy," her father declared thoughtfully.

Cersei nodded mildly, and for a moment was distracted by the memory of that beautiful woman. The child in her could do nothing but stare when she walked in, marvel at the picture she and the Prince made, at her hair, but the woman in her, although she was but thirteen, was jealous. Jealous that Cersei would never be as beautiful, that she would never have the Prince, that Elise Hardy was free to love her brother where Cersei was not.

"You promised once that I would be Queen," Cersei huffed, flicking away her hair. "Apparently not."

Tywin stared hard, and she held his gaze- her brother might have cowered, but Cersei was more of a man than he was, and she did not.

"You _will_ be Queen," he said firmly, and she wanted to believe him.

"The King is set on his children marrying," she insisted, although the words burned her tongue. "They are perfect for each other, and the smallfolk already love her."

"Sheep, all of them," he snapped. "But she is a beauty, and an asset. Whoever wed her would have Rhaegar's ear for the rest of their lives."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," he began, oozing power. "Is that in you I see a Queen Targaryen and in her I see a Lady Lannister. I have a son and daughter, and so does he. It is time I am paid for my services- and what better way than this?"


	6. IMPORTANT

**IMPORTANT**

After a bit of writer's block and some thinking, I realise **I jumped into this story too soon**. By that I mean I did not give myself enough time to flesh out the story line. For the Sun, I had a word document where I bullet pointed everything in order, and coloured them red when I wrote it- I fit around three points every chapter. This meant I could add and tweak as I went, but the skeleton of the story remained the same.

With this however, I feel there is no direction. I don't know where I want it to go, how I want the characters to interact. I don't even have an end point.

 **ALL IS NOT LOST**. I did some brainstorming and have got plenty of new ideas! I will **rewrite** this story, and fingers crossed, after jumping the initial hurdle, things will go smoothly from there and I can start uploading weekly. You may not immediately notice the difference, but I know all the little things I need to introduce early on in order for things to make sense later on.

All of you have supported me so much, and already love Elise, so I'm hoping you'll be alright with this. I know I could go the boring route and just trek through the motions of oh Cersei hates Elise cat fight Aerys says something horrible Rhaegar protects Elise Jaime falls in love with her bullcrap, but I don't like half assing things. I want to put my all into it, I want to write something where I can look back and think wow that's a good piece of description wow what great hyperbole, blah blah. So trust me when I say it will, in my opinion, have far more depth. It might even be in first person!

I am a big believer that character impacts plot and plot impacts character, which I'm not feeling with this draft, so there we are.

Anyway, don't worry, I will write like fury and will have at least the **first new chapter** (maybe more, but I don't want to jump the gun then fail to do so) by **a week** , maximum. So no worries! Also, if you have any **suggestions** for what you want to see, review please!

On that note, quick thank you to **Nina** (a guest so I can't PM you), who left a lovely review that really made me think and gave me fresh ideas- never be afraid to criticise my work! It honestly helped spur me to do this, and you have wonderful insight, so please continue to review! Another thank you to **Ana** for her thoughts too :) Special thank you to everyone that stuck with me through the Sun and followed me here- you guys make my day.

Still not sure whether the new version will as a new book or what, because I don't want to lose any readers that might not know what's going on. I'll probably delete the first four chapters and start fresh :)

 **Thank you** for your support! Don't worry, new chapter will be out soon :) **Review** your thoughts and suggestion! I will reply to all. Sorry this is long, I just wanted to explain. See you all soon!

 **Faye**


	7. Final Author's Note

**Note**

Sorry to say that the re-write may take a bit longer than I thought. I want to get a few chapters up and running before I post.

I'm taking a completely new approach to this, not sure if you'll like it or not, but I know I love writing it! It is difficult to write and wrap my head around, but I'm trying my best to get it ready for you guys- I reckon it will be a completely new book, which sucks because I might lose some of you, but that is the price to pay! Bear in mind I'm stupidly busy with school, and if I had an ounce of intelligence I would give this up for revision, but I'm an idiot so here I am. Let's all say a prayer for my education- here's to the doctor dream.

Anyway, I'll get the new book out as soon as I can! Thank you, as ever, for your support! Fingers crossed this is the last Author's Note and the next time you hear from me will be with a brand new story ;)

Until then,

 **Faye**


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